


Accidental Incidentals

by abeautifulmessofcontradictions



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 07:29:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6185914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abeautifulmessofcontradictions/pseuds/abeautifulmessofcontradictions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A random selection of short writing exercises to help me tame my verbosity :) Something light and fun; little unrelated snippets of everyday life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Innuendo

 

“You’re not eating _that?_ ” Red’s voice dripped with disdain from across the office lounge.

Lizzie looked up from the counter where she had just removed a bowl of ramen noodles from the microwave. “I most certainly am,” she answered matter-of-factly.

“Really, Lizzie, that can’t even be considered food.”

“I happen to have an affinity for them,” she replied airily. “They remind me of college and living on my student loan money.” She pulled off the lid and stirred the noodles absently. “Which, come to think of it, isn’t all that different from living on a government worker’s salary.”

With a sigh of resignation, Lizzie carried her lunch to the stained formica table where Red sat sipping his expensive coffee and poring over the New York Times.

“Oh, I think we can do much better than that.” Red’s voice was thick as honey, forcing an involuntary shiver to run up her spine.

Her spoon froze halfway to her mouth, hanging as if suspended by an invisible wire. She stared at him wide-eyed.

“Oh--oh, yeah?” she stammered, breathless.

This seductive side of Red was unexpected. She had grown used to seeing him carefully suppress the heat in his eyes whenever he looked at her, ever since the King’s auction. She had given up on him ever making a move.

“Oh, _yes_ ,” he drawled, leaning into her from across the table. “You can’t imagine…” he trailed off teasingly. “The things I’d like to see you put into your mouth.”

All the air left her body in a whoosh and her mouth dropped open in surprise.

He continued, “And feel sliding down your throat…”

Red touched her arm and Lizzie jumped. She felt the bottom drop out of her stomach at his brazen suggestion. She heard a little, half-strangled sound a realized dimly that it was coming from her

He leaned in closer to her and his thumb stroked lazily over her arm. “You have _no_ idea…”

Distantly, she heard her spoon clatter to the floor as she lost control of her fine motor skills. The hypnotic timbre of his voice made her lean into him as well.  


“Oh, relax,” Samar’s voice abruptly cut through the fog of Lizzie’s mind as she crossed to the coffeemaker. “He’s talking about oysters.”


	2. Idiocy

“Where are you and Samar going for lunch?” Ressler asked as he passed Aram’s workstation.

Aram bustled around his desk, collecting his keys and sliding the strap of his messenger bag across his chest. “We’re going to the mall. She wants help picking out a new bikini for her vacation.”

“You sure you’re not gay?” Ressler laughed as Aram’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, because spending hours with a beautiful woman while she’s mostly naked is _so_ tedious.” Aram rolled his eyes. “You sure you’re not stupid?”


	3. Peeps

Lizzie plopped a muffin down on his desk.

Donald raised his eyes to her questioningly.   

“What is that?” he asked dubiously. 

“Breakfast,” she replied simply. 

“Why?”

“I can’t bring my partner a pastry without an interrogation?” Her eyes were wide, her tone innocent, but she was still standing in front of his desk and he couldn’t quell the suspicion rising in his gut. 

His eyes narrowed doubtfully. “What do you want?” 

Lizzie shifted her weight from foot to foot, a nervous smile playing on her lips. “I did it again,” she admitted in a rush. 

“You didn't” he visibly deflated, shoulder slumping towards his desk. 

“It was an accident!” she insisted. “I didn't mean to!” 

“We said we wouldn't” 

“I know. But I did.” she sat down heavily in a chair on the opposite side of his desk. She dropped her head into her hands defeatedly, elbows propped on her knees. “I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm sorry.” 

Donald’s eyes chastised her. “We said after the last time that we wouldn't go back, not even to look.” 

“I know,” she repeated, her eyes downcast in repentance. 

He sighed heavily. “Well, just don’t do it again. You know you can’t--” 

He froze when a tiny _cheep_ issued from within her bag.  

Donald’s head snapped up, his eyes widening in disbelief. “What was _that_?” he rasped disapprovingly at her.  

A sheepish expression stole across her face and she reached down and gently brought her oversized bag into her lap. He tracked her hesitant movements as she dipped her hand inside and slowly drew it out. 

“No.” He stared incredulously as she unfurled her fingers to reveal a tiny, yellow ball of fluff. 

“We weren't even supposed to _look_ again!” His eyes darted frantically between her face and the baby chick nestled in her palm. “You promised!” he hissed accusingly. 

“I _know_ . I'm _sorry_.” Lizzie’s face looked anything but as she stroked it’s fuzzy head with her fingertip. 

Don covered his head with his hands. “How did this even happen?” 

Lizzie shrugged. “I need a light bulb and I was in Rural King and...and... it just _happened_. It was an accident!” 

Donald rolled his eyes. “You have zero self-control,” he bit out resignedly. 

“I know; I'm hopeless.” She nuzzled the baby chick up to her cheek. “But he's just so fluffy!” she exclaimed. 

“I am so disappointed in you,” Donald intoned with mock severity, shaking his head. 

Lizzie sighed and hung her head remorsefully. “I know.” She fixed him with her best innocent look. “But he _is_ cute and after Easter, who knows what would have happened to him?” 

Donald fumed but she could tell she was wearing him down. 

“Well.... just... don't let Cooper see it in here,” he huffed. “And it had better not poop on my desk!” He pretended to return to his paperwork, shuffling folders around on his desk. 

After a moment, Lizzie smiled at him. “Don?” 

“Hmm?” He looked up at her, distractedly. 

“Do you want to hold him?” she asked gently.

“Oh, thank God! I thought you'd never ask!”


	4. Happy Hour

The night club was crowded and loud and had entirely too much body glitter for Liz's liking.

_Why did I let somebody talk me into this?_ she wondered, not for the first time. 

“And another free round!” Samar set the cocktails on the bar table and climbed onto her tall chair. 

“I don't know why I let you convince me this was a good idea,” Liz shouted over the music. 

“Because it's _fun_!” Samar insisted. “We never get a chance to just have girl talk.” 

“Yeah,” Lizzie conceded, sipping the bright pink martini. 

“Oh, Aram loves this song!” Samar shouted. 

“One Direction?” Lizzie snorted derisively. “Why am I not surprised?” 

“Hey! He has other redeeming qualities!” Samar joked. 

Lizzie gave her friend a genuine smile. “You guys seem really happy together.” Liz snatched Samar’s left hand off the table to peer at her engagement ring again. “Picked a date yet?” 

“No, we're not in a hurry. I don't have any family, so it's mostly just about convincing his mother to be okay with it at this point.” 

Liz smiled empathetically. “I'm sure she loves you.” 

“I wouldn't be too sure about that.” Samar took a sip of her drink. “She has some pretty set beliefs about what Aram needs.”

“Well, he's her baby!” Liz offered. “You can't expect her to give him up easily.” 

“I suppose,” Samar grumbled good-naturedly. “But enough about me! I want to hear about _your_ love life,” she insisted. 

“Me?” Liz's eyebrows raised incredulously. “What love life?” 

Samar peered at her knowingly over the rim of her martini glass. “What about Redington?” 

Liz levelled her gaze at the other woman. “What _about_ Reddington?” 

“Oh, come on, Liz! You can’t tell me you haven't noticed the way he looks at you.” 

Liz paused to think. “I don't know what you mean,” she replied honestly. “How does he look at me?” 

“Like he wants to know what you taste like.” 

Lizzie choked on her drink. _He did?_  

“Seriously?” Liz asked incredulously. “I do _not_ think that's possible.” She took a careful sip of her cocktail. “He's...cultured and...and rich and I'm...nobody,” she finished lamely.

Samar stared at her as if she had two heads. “First of all, you're not ‘nobody’; you're gorgeous. And talented. And badass at your job. Secondly, if you think he hasn't noticed you, then you haven't been paying attention.”


End file.
